Page 28 of Holiday Hostilities

It’s all very unfortunate.

“I was merely cheering my brother on,” I lie.

“Your brother who wasn’t even on the ice at that moment?” Aaron’s eyes dance, and I glare at him.

“And my very good friend Jimmy,” I say staunchly. “I was cheering for him, too.”

“That’s no way to speak to the player who scored the winning goal specially for you.” He smirks all smugly at me and I have to clench my fist to prevent myself from unleashing my inner octopus.

“Better not say that too loudly, or Aaron’s Army might get jealous.”

“Well, seeing as you’re a proud member?—”

“Have you seen Jake?” I interrupt coolly, peering past him like my blood’s not currently sizzling in my veins.

Aaron looks like he might ignore my interruption and continue with his idiotic sentence, but he ( wisely) changes his tune. “He’s still in the locker room. You know Jake loves his long steam showers.”

I do. My big brother was always using up all the hot water back when we used to fight over one bathroom.

“Wow. A straight answer for once.” I clap my hands together in mock-glee. “Thank you. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to resume my waiting in peace.”

“If you don’t want to wait, I could always give you a ride,” he says in a low voice that absolutely doesnotresult in goosebumps on my arms.

“That will never happen.” By some miracle, my voice manages to sound somewhat normal. I’m about to lord over him the fact that he doesn’t even know where I’m getting a rideto(and also the fact that he wasn’t invited), but he continues, “Suit yourself. Guess I’ll see you at Teamsgiving. I hear you’re bringing pie.”

“Wait, what?” I frown, now entirely confused. “What’s Teamsgiving?”

“You know, the big holiday dinner that was dreamed up in the communal showers.”

I have no idea what on God’s green earth he’s talking about, but I do know the last thing I need to be doing right now is picturing Aaron all soaped up and sopping wet in the shower. So I latch onto the wordsholiday dinnerand blurt, “You’re having dinner with us this evening?”

“I thinkyou’rehaving dinner withustomorrowis more correct terminology.” He steps backwards with a shrug. “But as you wish.”

For a moment, he studies my expression—which is undoubtedly both severely lost and mildly horrified. His full lips then slide into a knowing smirk I do not like one bit. Though it kind of makes the non-feminist-bra-burner in me melt, stupid girl that she is.

“He didn’t tell you, did he?” Aaron asks around a deep, throaty chuckle.

“Tell me what?”

“I’d usually say don’t shoot the messenger, but I think you might actually shoot me—or knee me in the balls—so I’ll let Jake be the bearer of this particular piece of news.”

“What news?”

He simply smiles a maddening grin. “See you tomorrow, Lil Griz.”

Then, he walks off, whistling cheerfully to himself. I stare at his retreating form (studiously not looking at his backside—takethat, inner bra-burner) with an ominous feeling gathering in my stomach.

11

AARON

I step onto the pristine, untouched ice and take a deep breath, ignoring the stomachache I currently have from demolishing way too much pie last night.

It’s 6am on Black Friday, and as I speed-skate circles around the rink to warm up, letting my body work on autopilot, I try to organize my thoughts.

The stupid cockroach debacle is still haunting me, but more than that, the questions around my captaincy. I know I can’t risk further pissing Lieberman off.

As stressed and under pressure as I’ve felt since being named captain, I still love hockey. I also love this team, and I’m going to do whatever it takes to stay in this role. Getting demoted is not an option.

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